Tokyo Mew Mew A La Mode ReDux
by Neofeliss
Summary: For those left unsatisfied with the original ending to Tokyo Mew Mew. Two years after the final battle against the aliens, a new threat has risen that threatens the entire Earth. It's up to Ichigo, the other Mew Mews, and allies old and new to stop it.
1. Prologue

**A/N: To my current readers: if you're confused and wondering why they recieved a "New Story" update for one they thought they were already watching: the first few chapters of _ReDux _have gone under a major revamp. The story was moving far too slowly, and it was driving me insane. It was literally inhibiting my ability to continue it. Therefore, I've been going through the chapters and repairing various things so that the story flows better and the action picks up quicker. Sorry for the confusion.**

**To those of you that are new to this story: hello, and welcome! :D Thank you for stopping by my corner of to read this. I hope you enjoy it. :3**

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_"Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;  
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,  
and loathsome canker lies in sweetest buds.  
All men have faults."  
_~William Shakespeare

The mansion was well-hidden, secluded in a small corner of a dark and mountainous forest, and from the looks of it, long since forgotten. The hedges that formed a barricade around the premises had long since been attended to, their once preened and perfect hedges left overgrown and gnarled. What once was a proud, ornate, wrought-iron gate nestled directly in the middle of the hedges had now rusted over in several parts, and while it looked and could have been, for the most part, still operable, the plethora of vines that had extended from the hedges and enveloped the gate throughout and within its bars had all but frozen it in place.

Beyond the gate and hedges stretched a long cobblestone driveway, interrupted in numerous places by patches of grass and weeds, disappearing almost entirely in others. The driveway stretched far back into the premises, eventually pooling together at the front porch of the mansion, forming a circular courtyard surrounding what once was a proud, sandstone fountain. "Once" was the key word, as the fountain was now decrepit and falling apart. Where once beautiful, crisp clean water flowed now only a bed of dead leaves remained.

The mansion itself was no better worse for wear. In its prime, the building was a proud and beautiful tribute to all things western, yet another attempt by English settlers to bring their prim and proper ways to the Orientals. Now, this once beautiful mansion was just as old and forgotten as the rest of the property. The beautiful veranda had fallen into ruin, covered in brush and leaves, the paint on the walls peeling and falling off in various clumps. The windows were tinted and forever dusted over, and in some places, broken. And just as the front gate had been overtaken by the hedges, a thin coat of vines had extended from the mangled bushes near the front and intertwined over the ornate, wooden front door. It was truly a dark and dismal scene, especially on a stormy afternoon such as the one that very day. Dark storm clouds swelling with rainwater hovered ominously overhead, interrupted only by a flash of lighting that illuminated the estate, casting dreary and haunting shadows on the ground. Unless in a truly desperate situation to escape the eminent rain on the horizon, it was doubtful anyone would even think of entering the house.

Had anyone entered the house (once they worked their way through the curtain of vines), they would have found the interior of the house just the same as the exterior. The luminous entry hall was dark and gloomy, and a thick coat of dust had settled over the white marble floor. Both of the ornate marble staircases escalading up from the middle of the room to the second floor were just as worse for wear as the floor below it, with numerous cobwebs filling the gaps of the stairwells. What once were ornate, silk curtains were now frayed and tinted with age, the victims of many hungry moths, as the numerous holes would attest to. It would seem unlikely that anyone would want to go further than this dusty, decrepit room. Upon venturing further, they would've encountered the same dismal scene both on the lower and upper floors; dusty floors, darkened windows, aged curtains, dirty carpets.

However, had anyone born both the curiosity or the gall to continue, a further exploration into the house would have revealed something quite interesting indeed.

Gradually, the dirty, dusty marble floors gave way to pristine, sparkling floors of the same material, blanketed by an ornate and lush red carpet. The frayed curtains were replaced by silk and gossamer curtains, which if given the proper lighting could shimmer and sway brightly - and indeed they did, as shimmers of lightning from the oncoming storm illuminated the immaculately clean, ornate windows. Figuratively speaking, it was almost as if someone had taken a clean knife and sliced through the mansion, leaving two halves; one clean and beautiful, hidden behind its old and worn counterpart.

Two pristine marbled staircases emerged from the upper floors and descended to a glistening foyer, as fresh and new as the day it was created; an exact replica of the first foyer, aside from the fact that this one was obviously in use and well cared for. However, where the front door would have been placed in the first entrance hall, in this second one there stood a wall of glass windows and doors, filling the antechamber with light.

And beyond the windows was a sight more beautiful than that of the foyer.

Beyond the windows stood a courtyard, once again an exact replica of the front lawn, but in every aspect a thousand times better. The hedges were clean and trimmed, forming a neat border all around the yard. Not a sliver of glass nor a shred of weeds could be seen in the cobblestone driveway, and the sandstone fountain bubbled and shimmered with clean water that cascaded down from the spout.

And then there was the garden. Truly, if the courtyard was impressive, this garden was _godly_.

Or rather, perhaps it could have been called an ocean, for that was exactly what it was; an endless sea of red roses, stretching as far and wide as the eye could see, on past the hedges and towards the forboding mountains and forests that shielded the garden from the rest of the world. Not a single square inch was without a rose, and nowhere could be seen any other type of flower or plant; whoever had created the garden had seen to that, putting even the most experienced and visionary of a landscape artist to shame. Closer inspection of the roses would have yielded further perfection; not a single petal was out of place, not one flower blemished, nor were there any thorns waiting to prick some unsuspecting finger. Every single rose in every single way was perfect.

The perfect garden for the perfect being, mulled the sole person surveying the massive garden.

She pressed a small, delicate hand to the icy window as she surveyed her wonderful domain.

Had anyone seen this figure from afar, perhaps at the very edge of the garden, they probably would have mistaken her for a ghost in a darkened room. The white robes that covered her petite form billowed around and off of her, casting a shroud of silver that paled her skin and gave her appearance a ghostly aura. Her long black hair cascaded down around her shoulders and down to the floor, despite the fact the billowing waves had been tied back into a loose-fitting ponytail. And then there were her eyes: sharp, cool, but a dark and unsettling red, which surveying her domain - nay, her _utopia_ - from behind a delicate veil of white.

In any other eyes, they would have seen simply a garden. In her eyes, however - her cold, calculating eyes - it was much more than that. It represented years of hard work and careful preparation, meticulous planning and calculating. And soon, all her years of waiting and planning would pay off with rewards far richer than anyone could even fathom.

A slow smile crept across her full lips as she gazed on. "_Magnifique. Simplement magnifique_," she murmured quietly in a voice heavily tinted with both a French affluence and eager anticipation. "A perfect start for a revolution." Her eyes left the garden to glance behind her for a brief moment. "Tell me, my children, what do you see?"

No sooner had she spoken, four dark figures emerge from the shadows of the darkened room. In perfect unison, they stooped to one knee in a graceful, flourishing bow. One, a male, responded his mistress' question in a smooth, eloquent voice. "I see a beautiful garden of roses, my lady."

"Very good," the woman nodded, returning her gaze to the roses. "Have you ever seen a garden quite like this?"

"Not in this lifetime, my lady," the same man replied.

"Exactly," the woman continued, her hand gently tracing figures in the window glass. "There are no such gardens like this anywhere on Earth. These are the gardens of Shangri-La, my sweet, sweet children." As she spoke, her voice began to swell with pride and perhaps even desire. Behind her, her consorts waited for her to continue with great anticipation. Hers was a speech they had heard countless times before, perhaps even memorized, and yet, every time she spoke it, she managed to add a new thrill, something completely unique and unexpected that made it all the more tantalizing and left them shivering with anticipation.

"In the gardens of Shangri-La, there are only roses. Beautiful, red, noble roses, roses free of blemish, free of thorns, free of taint Each and every one of them as pure and beautiful as all the others.

"And yet…" And then her voice dropped into an icy tone, swelling no longer with pride but pure spite. Her delicate hand clenched fiercely onto the edge of the curtains, her long fingernails digging into the silk threads as she spoke. "Even in gardens as beautiful as these, there always manages to sprout a weed. And where one weed grows, another lays down its seed. Soon, there are hundreds of filthy weeds, growing, multiplying, tainting the entire garden as they drown out the beautiful roses.

"It is the same with humankind, my children. If this world is Shangri-La, then each continent is a garden, each human being a rose. There are only a few perfect specimens, such as ourselves, free of sin and as pure as these roses. However, we are constantly surrounded and drowned out by the _weeds - _useless, imperfect, disgusting impurities that must be…_removed _in order for progress to be made." In a flourish, she released the curtain and quickly pulled the chord beside it, watching patiently as the drapes fell and covered the window, engulfing the room in completely darkness. Noiselessly, she whirled around to face the four figures behind her.

"As you can see, we have quite a job ahead of us." She snapped her fingers as she spoke, and suddenly a eerie blue light filled the room. All five figures turned to a large screen mounted upon the wall, where a large map of the globe was being projected. Numerous windows popped up onscreen, each bearing statistics.

"What will you have us do, my lady?" a second male figure spoke, his voice slightly more masculine and haughty than his counterpart.

The woman did not answer right away, but instead made her way to a small table, where a vase of roses, the same type as the ones outside sat. She plucked a rose from the vase and daintily lifted it to her nose, inhaling its soft sweet scent before continuing. Without turning back to her attendees, he waved her hand over the screen, causing it to zoom in on the continent of Asia.

"You will begin here," she spoke as she wove her hand once more, this time zooming in on the Japanese islands. "This garden is full of beautiful roses that need to be flushed out, as well as hundreds of weeds. As keepers of the garden, it is up to you to reclaim the perfect specimens and remove the impurities."

"There may be some weeds that resist, my lady," the first male spoke quietly.

"I'm well aware of that. But you have nothing to worry about, my children," she the woman replied, eyes glued to the screen, the rose in her hand still twirling quietly. "They should not be any trouble for you at all. And, if by chance they do, make an example of them for the rest of the impurities."

"What did you have in mind?" the man inquired, curious.

The rose stopped turning in the woman's hand. She whirled around to face her consorts, and quick as a wink, she crushed the bright red flower in her hands, making a soft yet satisfying squish. "_Eradicate _them," she nearly hissed as she let the dead rose drop silently to the floor.

"Understood, my lady" the man replied, his voice suddenly quiet and deadly as he rose and disappeared into the shadows. As he left, the woman strode past her remaining followers and reopened the curtains. A turn of the handle and the window swung open, as she strolled out onto a small balcony. The oncoming storm had quickly gathered speed and strength, the skies now rumbling with thunder. Chilling winds whipped through her hair as she surveyed her garden. Seconds later her eyes had suddenly seized what she'd been looking for; one patch of roses seemed to be wilting, perhaps from the weather or from old age. She stared for a moment, her face expressionless, before she made to reach into her robes.

"Understand, my children, not all will agree with out methods," she said as her three remaining consorts joined her on the balcony. "Many may deny us, others may hate us. But in time, they will come to understand that this is our duty as Crusaders." She paused momentarily to withrdraw a long match from her sleeve, striking it against the balcony. She seemed to consider her choice for a moment before narrowing her eyes. If one or a dozen roses were wilting, then the rest would shortly die after; where one imperfection resided rested the potention for more to be born.

And she would not have imperfections in _her _garden.

"This is the only way we can reform this world and transform it into our own paradise, our Shangri-La. No matter how dark the road may be, no matter how much blood must be spilt…Shangri-La must be opened!"

As she spoke those last few words, she let the match drop directly over the patch of wilted roses, and within moments, flames began to creep up, quickly seizing the flowers around it. Soon, with great speed despite the harsh winds billowing about, a small section of the garden now burned and crackled, casting an eerie light upon the woman and her followers. The stench of burning roses and charred grace filled the air as rain began to softly fall from the sky.

The woman watched the scene with a delighted smirk upon her face, the firelights dancing in her eyes. After all, this was only a taste of what was to come.

"_Désirent ardemment la Shangri-La de phase. Désirent ardemment de phase les croisés de Saint Rose!"_

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_**Footnotes**_

1.) _Désirent ardemment la Shangri-La de phase. Désirent ardemment de phase les croisés de Saint Rose!_

In English: Long live Shangri-La. Long live the Saint Rose Crusaders!

- Well, since the leader is French, I thought it fit. :D

**A/N: This chapter didn't really need a revamp, but I corrected some areas and fixed them up nice and spiffy-like. :3**

**Thank you for reading! Please, review and comment, and constructive critiques are encouraged!**


	2. Reprieve

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! As with the prologue, this chapter was in need of a revamp as well. Much of the original content is the same, but towards the end, there are some major changes. But I feel asm though the changes were necessary, as it draws more from the original **_**A La Mode **_**manga, provides a few new things, and in general helps set the pace a bit better. **

**But anyways, thank you everyone for tuning in once more to **_**ReDux! **_**:D**

**Let's get on with it, shall we? Onto the show!**

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Part One: White Rose

Chapter 1: Reprieve

Ichigo cringed in her sleep as she curled herself around her blankets, her shrill alarm clock clanging in her ears. As the last few seconds of her precious sleep threatened to slip away, Ichigo gave an agitated groan and rolled over in bed, her hand reaching and searching for the small pink clock on her bedside table. At last fingers touched solid plastic, and with a final tap, the ringing ceased. Sighing contently, she rolled back over, relishing in the idea of a few more minutes of uninterrupted sleep.

That is, until she realized what time it was, and what day. Instantly, her messy red head shot up from under the covers, and with amazing speed for one who had just woken up, Ichigo bolted upright and seized the alarm clock, her suddenly wide-open eyes narrowing in on the time. 7:40 – twenty full minutes past her normal wake-up call. "Oh, no!"

"Ichigo! Breakfast is ready!" Her mother voice called up from the staircase.

"C-coming!" Ichigo replied as she struggled to untangle herself from her sheets (kicking them fiercely when they did not yield right away) and clambered out of bed, making a beeline for her bedroom window. Drops of rain lightly scattered across her face as she pushed open her window, squinting slightly as sunlight flooded her bedroom. Once her eyes had adjusted, she quickly turned around, making a beeline towards her closet. "Rise and shine, Masha!" she called from the closet as she tried to locate her school uniform.

There was no reply. Ichigo poked her head out from the closet to scan her room; there was no sign of the little pink robot. "Masha?" she called again. Her eyes scanned the room as she tried to remember where she'd seen him last, and when she finally remembered, she made a beeline towards the bed, shoving her pink comforter aside. Sure enough, the tiny pink robot was curled up on Ichigo's unmade bed, snoring quietly…or rather, humming, as robots couldn't snore. Frowning, Ichigo gently prodded the robot. "Oi, Masha, wake up! It's morning!"

The cat-like creature responded by yawning in its sleep and rolling over onto its side, snoring even louder. Placing her hands on her hips, Ichigo sighed. "You sure have gotten lazy in the past few months…geez," she muttered as she scooped up the small robot. "Masha, wake up! Masha!" she said as she prodded the robot just a tiny bit harder in the cheek. At last, its eyes opened, blinking sleepily as it yawned and stretched its wings.

"Finally," Ichigo smiled as the tiny robot shook itself out of sleep mode, its tiny body humming contently as it restarted. Upon opening its wide pink eyes and seeing its master, the robot gave a cheerful series of chirps as it floated up into the air and rubbed affectionately against Ichigo's cheek. "Good morning to you too, sleepy-head!" Ichigo laughed as Masha purred contently. "Looks like we both slept in a little later than usual."

As if to illustrate that point, Ichigo's mother once again called out. "Ichigo!"

"ACK!" Ichigo gasped, realizing that she was still running late. "Masha, can you help me get my stuff together?" She said as she yanked her school uniform off of its hook in the closet.

The robot couldn't have been more elated as its entire body bobbed up and down in reply as his master set about gathering the other additions to her uniform from her dresser, stripping out of her pajamas as she found each piece. In a hurry, she finished dressing, thanking Masha for retrieving her misplaced tie, and quickly darted to the bathroom to wash her face and tie back her hair into her trademark pigtails.

"Ichigo?"

"Almost ready!" Ichigo replied as she hurried to her dresser to check her hair. Last, but not least, she flipped open her jewelry box and gently removed her precious bell necklace, tying it securely around her neck. She took just a second longer to admire the way it glittered in the sunlight. Satisfied, Ichigo grabbed her backpack from the chair beside her dresser and opened it up. "Alright, I'm ready! Let's go, Masha!" The robot bobbed up and down happily before suddenly shrinking down to the size of a keychain, then darting into her purse. Once she made sure Masha was safely inside, Ichigo hurried out the door and down the stair case, rushing into the kitchen. "Morning!" she said quickly to her parents as she opened the fridge and selected a bottle of juice.

Her mother, Sakura, looked up from the stove she was working at and smiled warmly at her daughter. "There you are. Good morning, sweetheart," she replied, frowning slightly as she watched Ichigo furiously gulp down her juice. "Honey, be careful, you're liable to choke drinking like that."

From his seat at the table, her father Shintaro peeked over the newspaper he was reading to glance at his daughter. "Don't tell me you slept through the alarm again," he chided her gently as he took a sip from his coffee. "Ah, you did, didn't you?" he chuckled when Ichigo nearly choked on her juice, earning an 'I told you so,' from her mother. Regaining her composure, Ichigo finished her juice, making sure she swallowed before answering.

"I didn't sleep through the alarm!" She lied, frowning when her father raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really! It just took me longer this morning to get ready, honestly!" As she spoke, she rummaged through her backpack, making sure she had everything she needed before tucking the bento her mother handed her safely inside. "Thanks, Mom."

"Maybe if you had done your homework a little bit earlier, you wouldn't have had to stay up so late and miss your-"

"I told you I didn't sleep through it!" Ichigo interrupted. Shintaro shrugged in defeat, though the smirk on his face said he believed otherwise.

"Right, right. Whatever you say. Well, regardless, it's too bad you won't have time to eat this delicious breakfast," Shintaro teased, making a swooping gesture at the food set on the table. As if on cue, Ichigo's stomach gave a loud whine, earning a snicker from her father and causing her to blush even more furiously. Frowning, Ichigo quickly grabbed two slices of toast from a plate, giving her father a harsh glare.

"I swear you act more like a kid than I do! Meanie!" She griped, cramming the toast into her mouth as she hurried for the front door and quickly slipped on her school shoes. From behind her, her mother called out, "Please be careful, sweetheart!" to which Ichigo gave a small wave and a muffled, mouthful-of-toast reply of "See you later!" as she dashed out the door, swinging it shut behind her.

The air outside was heavy with the scent of rain and wet grass as Ichigo raced quickly around the corner, barely stopping to check if it was safe to cross the street. The sun was shining brightly up above, and the bright blue skies above gave no indication that the previous day had been nothing but gray skies and stormy weather, save for a couple of stray white clouds. As Ichigo raced down the streets, taking care to dodge any and all puddles that crossed her path, a chilly early spring breeze began to pick up, gently pushing her along as she hurried on her way.

All around her, the city was starting to come alive. Cars were already rushing past her on the roads as she neared the first crosswalk, where a decently sized crowd stood waiting for the light to change. Not wanting to wait for what could be a while, Ichigo quickly darted to the left, ducking through some hedges and racing through a small path to the other side. With a tiny hop, she cleared the remaining hedges and darted out into a clock tower square bustling with people. A quick glance at the clock showed she didn't have much more time to dawdle, and so she took off again, racing past various shops opening their doors to the first throng of customers.

"Come on, come on," she muttered to herself when she got caught at yet another red light, this time joined by several other students wearing the same school uniform. Bouncing up and down anxiously, Ichigo tried to see over the crowd, jumping up once. She couldn't see him from here, but hopefully he was still waiting – not that he'd ever left her before, but still, it was always a persistent worry of hers that one day he'd grow impatient and leave. It was stupid, she knew, but missing out on her precious morning time with Masaya, not to mention ruining his perfect attendance record, was something she was NOT about to risk for being late.

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Glancing up from his watch, Masaya turned to peer down the road to his right. There was a rather large crowd at the crosswalk, but out of all the faces he could pick out, none of them were Ichigo's smiling face. Sitting upright, he sighed – not an impatient one or an angry one; just a simple sigh. She was running later than usual – but given the previous night's circumstance and the fact that today was Monday, he was not worried. This was Ichigo he was talking about, after all.

He wondered how much of the homework she'd been able to finish, even with his help. Math seemed to be a difficult subject for her, especially since midterms were steadily creeping up on them. It didn't help matters that Ichigo had started her homework later than usual, but he wasn't going to hold that against her. He smiled – that was just something Ichigo did. It was a bad habit, but any habit of hers, even if it was bad, wasn't even _that_ bad to begin with.

"Masaya!"

Instantly, Masaya perked up, and sure enough here she came, charging down the sidewalk, a very harried but relieved look on her face. He turned to face her fully, his smile growing as she slowed down, stooping down to catch her breath.

"Good morning, Ichigo," he said calmly, placing a hand on her back to help steady her breathing. "I was starting to worry about you."

"Time…what time is it?" she started to ask, though her speech was impaired by her rapid breathing. As she stood upright, she took a deep, steadying breath to calm herself down. He, meanwhile, glanced at his clock. "It's about 7:50. Oh, but my watch is running a couple minutes fast, so…" Of course it really wasn't, but Ichigo seemed to be having a bad morning already, and he had no intention of making it any worse.

Instantly Ichigo bolted upright, blushing with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Masaya. You should've gone on ahead without me…"

"You don't have to apologize," Masaya said kindly, gently brushing Ichigo's frenzied bangs back into place. "I wouldn't have left even if you told me too." He gently took her face into his hands, igniting an even deeper blush from her cheeks. Goodness, she was just too adorable! "I value our morning time far too much to put attendance above it."

For a moment, Ichigo simply stood there, dazed and feeling strangely giddy hearing Masaya say exactly what she'd been thinking moments ago. But then another thought popped into her mind, and she stepped back, crossing her arms and pouting. "You and I both know that the day you have a watch that runs too fast is the day the world comes to an end."

Masaya just beamed back at her. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"I might not be as great at keeping time or doing math as you, but there's one thing I do know about." She smiled as she gently linked arms with Masaya, her fingers entwining with his. "And that's you." _Oh God, that sounded so corny, _Ichigo thought to herself, but Masaya didn't seem to mind. In fact, it made him blush just a tiny bit. Smiling up at him, she stood on tiptoe and gave him the tiniest of kisses on the cheek. "Good morning," she said belatedly, beaming with happiness.

Masaya smiled gently as he returned the kiss on her forehead. "Good morning again, my princess."

* * *

Daikan High School was located just a few blocks away from the junior high building, and in truth, many students saw it as an exact replica; built of the same material and having the exact same amount of floors and windows, one could have easily mistaken it on the outside for the middle school. The inside wasn't that much different either, bearing the exact number of classrooms, windows, and even teachers. However, on a plus side, the courtyard out front was definitely more welcoming and one of the most popular places to stay and chat. Lined with various bushes and trees, many of which were in bloom and glistening from the night's rain fall, it definitely gave off a more aesthetic feel. Several benches lined the rows of trees and flowers, now filled with students exchanging homework or just gossiping in general.

As Ichigo and Masaya entered the school grounds, a familiar voice called out to them. "Ichigo-san!"

Beaming, Ichigo turned from Masaya just as a beautiful young girl with flowing green hair approached them. "Retasu, good morning! Hey, you wore your hair down today!" Unlike Ichigo, who wore a typical knee-high skirt, Retasu had chosen to wear the longer, shin-length skirt for her uniform; coupled with a pair of shimmering grey tights, black ballet flats and her beautiful long hair, as well as her kind smile, her friend looked very pretty today.

"Good morning, you two," Retasu said politely as she bowed, and Masaya mimicked the gesture as well.

"You look very nice with your hair tied back like that," Masaya said with a warm smile.

"T-thank you," Retasu blushed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and averting her blue eyes to the ground. "S-so! How are you two this morning?" she said, quick to divert the attention away from herself as they made their way towards the front foyer and the locker room. Once there, they were joined once more by a curly-haired blonde and a short-haired brunette, who giggled as they bowed to the three.

"I have to get going," Masaya said as he turned to Ichigo. "There's a short team meeting before homeroom starts."

"Alright. So, I'll see you in class later?"

"Mm-hm," Masaya nodded. Then, quite unexpectedly, he leaned forward, brushed the bangs from Ichigo's forehead, and pressed a very tender kiss to it. Instantly, Ichigo's face ignited in a fierce blush, and behind her, she could hear Moe and Miwa giggling ecstatically, while Retasu simply blushed and smiled. Smiling warmly, Masaya gave Ichigo's hand a gentle squeeze before turning to leave, waving good-bye. "See you later." Ichigo's heart gave the tiniest flutter as she returned the wave, feeling as though she were the luckiest girl on Earth.

* * *

"Well, it seems you two were in a very good mood this morning," Miwa said as the girls entered their first period classroom. She sighed, her eyes dreamy. "You're so lucky. If only I had a boyfriend just like Masaya, so kind and sweet like he is."

Ichigo's blush, which had just recently faded, reappeared as she recalled the morning's events. "You think so?" she asked as her cheeks glowed softly.

"You've certainly become a lot bolder around Masaya around other people," Moe said, a sly smile crossing her face as she sat down directly on Ichigo's desk. "If you keep this up, even I won't be able to top you as Daikan High School's biggest flirt," she teased, prodding her friend in the nose.

Ichigo frowned. "I am not a flirt!" she pouted as she batted Moe's finger away. "And it wasn't like that at all."

"Oh come on," Moe gave her a hard nudge in the shoulder, a wicked grin expanding on her face. "We all saw what you did back there. It was all, like…" She turned to Miwa and grappled the girl around the waist, donning a dopey expression and raising her voice to an alarmingly high octave as she propped her head against her friend's shoulder. "Oh Masaya, you're so wonderful! Oh Masaya, I love you so much! I'm so lucky to have a boyfriend just like you who kisses me in public and doesn't care how late I am for everything!"

Ichigo blushed furiously as a couple of students looked up from their seats to watch the scene. Thrilled at the attention she was getting, Moe quickly gave a twirl as Miwa dropped the girl in a tango-esque pose. The blonde flung her hand back and gave a very loud romantic sigh. "'Oh, sweep me off my feet, Masaya!'"

Ichigo shot a dark look at her friends, who were now beside themselves with laughter. "Ha ha. Very funny, you two."

Moe wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling to herself. "Oh, lighten up a little, Ichigo. We're just teasing you." Miwa nodded, still giggling. "Though you have to admit it, I think I got your voice right on the mark," Moe continued, causing both to burst into another fit of giggles.

Ichigo turned her back to her friend, crossing her arms. "Fine, then. I guess you can forget about borrowing my English homework then, Moe." The smiles vanished instantly from Moe's face.

"You wouldn't. No way. Don't even joke about stuff like that."

"You tease me like that and expect me to lend you my homework?" Ichigo turned away. "Forget i_-_whoah!" She was cut off when the blonde girl grappled her arms around Ichigo's neck, causing the girl to gasp for air. "J-Jeez, Moe!" she gasped.

"Come on, Ichigo! Have mercy on me!" Moe pleaded, pouting. "I had to baby-sit for an hour and a half last night! I didn't have time to do the assignment, and Moriko-sensei will totally kill me if I don't turn it in! You know how she is about that whole 'three-strikes' policy!"

"Poor baby," Ichigo stated flatly, mimicking the voice Moe used to tease her. "Maybe if you hadn't gotten two out of three strikes already for texting in class, you would be in this mess."

"I've learned my lesson!" she whined loudly as she began to swing her arms around frantically. She seemed to forget that they were still attached to Ichigo, who flailed helplessly in her friend's vice-like grip. "As your oldest and dearest friend, fellow classmate, _and _not to mention the number one supporter of your relationship with Masaya - despite the fact he's somewhat too good for you – you've got to help me in my time of need!"

"Get off me!" Ichigo wailed as she gasped for air. "You're gonna knock my head off! Okay, okay, I'll give it to you! Just let me go!"

Off to the side, Retasu and Miwa simply watched the spectacle unfold before them, embarrassed smiles on their faces. "Some things never change, huh?" Retasu said as she adjusted her glasses.

"You can say that again." Miwa nodded as a bedraggled Ichigo finally managed to pry herself free from Moe. A playful grin spread across her friend's face as she triumphantly waved her precious, crumpled plunder in the air.

"Ah, sweet victory. Pouting always works," she sang happily as she bounded off towards her desk in the back of the classroom, waving her loot in the air. "I owe you one, Ichigo!"

"Doing your own homework for once might help, too!" Ichigo wheezed after her as she rubbed her sore neck, sighing, "And she's never once paid me back, not since middle school. Geez," she groaned, leaning back in her seat, "doesn't she ever learn?"

"Apparently not," Retasu shook her head, smiling. "She needed to copy my math homework two days in a row last week."

"That's Moe for you – same procrastinator as always," Miwa said with a giggle as the first bell sounded off. "Oh wow, it's already time for class, and I need to finish my homework. Don't worry, I won't copy yours," Miwa said quickly as Ichigo gave her a questioning look. "Talk to you later!" she said as she hurried towards her seat, followed by Retasu.

"See you at break, Ichigo-san," Retasu said politely as she walked away.

"Yup!" Ichigo nodded as several late stragglers quickly filed into the room, including Masaya. He immediately slid into his seat near the front of the room, but not before giving Ichigo a kind smile and a gentle wave. Ichigo returned the gesture, a warm smile tugging at her lips, just as the teacher, a stern looking woman with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, entered the room at a brisk pace.

"Alright class, to your seats, or else I mark you absent. Take out your books and homework while I take attendance.

Quickly the sounds of papers shuffling and desks opening filled the room as Ichigo settled herself down for the day, taking out her own textbook. She hoped that Moe didn't have much to copy, or else she would get in trouble herself for not having her homework with her – but there were worse things that could happen, she supposed. Despite this morning's late start, Ichigo felt herself in a very good mood, thanks entirely to Masaya. She smiled to herself as she opened the textbook to the page written on the board; chances were very good that the rest of the day would proceed just as nicely.

"Momomiya?"

"Here!"

* * *

Elsewhere, darker plans for the day were also promising to proceed smoothly.

"You summoned us, Duchess-sama?"

The tall, dark-haired woman turned towards the entrance of the dimly lit room, where her four young servants had assembled quickly and quietly. A small smile graced her lips; it was absolutely wonderful to have followers who were so efficient.

"I want you all to take a look at this," the dark-haired woman said, her fingers snapping sharply. The massive computer screen behind her sprung back to life, it's screen already filled from corner to corner with various windows. Each one depicted a rather strange scene; one was of a city encapsulated within a massive, murky dome; another of a bustling harbor plagued by severe red tide. Yet another portrayed a massive sports dome surrounded on all sides by crippling fissures, while others boasted a photographs of the infamous Tokyo Tower, enshrouded by a pale, purple haze. One particular photograph of the tower instantly captured everyone's attention; one where, at the very top of the tower, a massive, winged creature was emerging from the haze, it's horrific fangs bared to the world.

"Two years ago," the head continued as her colleagues looked on, "various sectors of the Minato-ward of Tokyo, Japan, fell victim to a series of unnatural phenomena concerning the area's environment, including sudden blooms of red tide, toxic particles contaminating the air, and sudden earthquakes. According to the newsreels, at the time, all attacks occurred without warning and possessed the potential to accelerate into catastrophic situations, with the envelopment of Tokyo in a strange, unbreakable dome being the worst of them. The strangest thing is, no one knew what to make of it – not even the world's top scientists could make a justifiable claim as to why these disasters occurred…plenty of speculation, yet no firmly grounded belief. However, according to various articles and reports since then, many speculate that aliens were behind the attacks."

"Aliens?" a haughty voice said suddenly, earning dark looks from his colleagues. "Please. Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie…er, if I may," he added when he felt his mistress' stare.

"It does seem very unlikely," another voice, nonchalant and lazy, nodded, "The whole scenario seems rather…peculiar, to say the least."

"What if I were to tell you that this theory was true?"

Four pairs of eyes widened, curious, before casting each other incredulous looks. Duchess smirked, waving her hand dismissively over the computer screen, shutting it off. She then strode to the center of the room, to a small table covered in a thick tablecloth. "I was once like you, my sweet Crusaders. I, too, once deemed the concept of aliens unbelievable…until I happened to find this," she finished, and with a flourish, yanked the cloth away from the table. "Behold."

All eyes fell upon the table as the cloth fell away, revealing a large, glass pyramid set on the tabletop. Another snap of Duchess' fingers, and a light within the pyramid lit up, illuminating the contents of the case and brightening the room considerably.

For a moment, the four servants stared at it, their expressions blank and their eyes wide in disbelief. At last, the tallest of the group spoke.

"Is that a…an alien?"

Trapped beneath the pyramid of glass was a creature unlike anything the men had ever seen. At a casual glance, it resembled nothing more than a common jellyfish, but further examination revealed anything but. Whereas all earthly jellyfish required water to survive, this one was contained within a bone-dry container, and what's more, was hovering. Its round, translucent body was tinted a sickly shade of green, illuminated by an unearthly orange hue that pulsated throughout the creature. Strange, tentacle-like appendages extended from the apex of its head and billowed around its tiny frame as it maneuvered the tiny space within its glass prison, bumping into the walls as it attempted to find an escape route, a pair of menacing pincers gnashing furiously.

"This is not an alien, but a creature designed by one," the woman explained, coming to stand beside the glass pyramid. "Two years ago, the alien forces plaguing the planet Earth retreated, leaving these creatures behind. Lacking basic digestive, central nervous, respiratory, or circulatory systems, and being small, defenseless, and otherwise powerless, they cannot survive on Earth alone for very long."

"_This_ tiny thing caused all of that damage?" the haughtier voice objected, still disbelieving. "If it can't survive on its own, how the-"

"You did not let me finish," the woman said curtly, silencing her young follower. "As I was saying, they cannot function well on their own and quickly perish. However," the woman's crimson eyes narrowed deviously, "being parasitic in nature, they thrive exceedingly well within the comforts of a living host."

"What do you mean?" the fourth and final member of the quartet, a child, questioned. Duchess smiled darkly at her young protégé, before reaching underneath the table to withdraw a small, wrought-iron birdcage. Inside the cage tweeted a small, brightly colored bird.

"If you please," she said, gesturing towards the glass pyramid. The tallest in the group quickly rose and hurried to the table and, at his lady's command, carefully lifted the case from the table and followed her towards the back of the room. Snapping her fingers once more, a large pair of curtains in the back of the room parted, revealing a massive birdcage very similar to the one in her hands now. Still smiling to herself, she stepped inside the large cage, set the bird cage on the metal floor, and quickly exited, rejoining her follower outside.

"Set it free," she commanded, pointing towards the alien, "After all, it needs a host to survive."

Despite the strange looks the two of them received from the others in the room, he complied, gingerly lifting the lid off the glass. No sooner had the alien been set free, it instantly flew from its prison towards the inside of the larger cage, straight towards the bird inside, and in an instant, seized the tiny bird in its hideous tentacles. With a terrified screech, the bird attempted to escape, its wings fluttering pitifully as the alien latched itself to the frightened animal as it slowly enveloped it. With a horrific squelch, the parasite suddenly slipped inside of the bird, the orange glow emitting from its body vanishing as it disappeared, the bird collapsing from exhaustion.

For a moment, nothing happened. The three remaining men slowly approached the cage, eying the bird wearily and wondering if the alien hadn't killed it by mistake. It certainly looked dead. Then, suddenly, the bird's body contorted horribly as a hideous orange aura surrounded it. With an unearthly screech, the bird's body began to transform, and as the men in the room backed away in shock, it began to grow, smashing through the small cage effortlessly, It continued to grow, its legs lengthening and growing hideous scales. Its once adorable, feathery head began to transform, elongating into a grotesque snout complete with horrendous fangs. Its tail, now long and very reptilian-like in appearance, lashed furiously from side to side as the monster finally ceased transforming, letting out a bloodcurdling screech as it slammed against the walls of its prison.

"Behold the chimera anima," Duchess said, turning back towards her followers, who starred at the newly formed beast in a mixture of fascination and terror. "Alone, the alien is powerless. But, fused with another thriving organism, such as this bird, it becomes a creature of terrifying power and a true force to be reckoned with." As if to illustrate her point, the monster gave another earsplitting shriek.

"Incredible," the tallest in the group murmured. Beside him, the stubborn doubter shook his head in disbelief, chuckling.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it myself."

"This is how we shall weed out the impurities," Duchess continued briskly, snapping her fingers and concealing the massive cage and chimera anima behind the large curtains once more, despite its continuous shrieks. "Just imagine, my dear, sweet Crusaders; if we can harness the power of these creatures, seeking out and destroying the impurities within our garden will be bit a menial labor. The gardens of Shangri-la will flourish in no time.

"That is where you come in, my dear children," Duchess said warmly, reaching within her sleeve to withdraw a large, glossy print. With a flick of her wrists, she tossed the photograph to the eldest man. As the three others crowded around to catch a glimpse of the photograph, she continued, saying, "This young man has recently made quite a bit of a stir in the scientific community. He's researching a strange aspect of the field, providing outstanding findings on the disasters in Tokyo I mentioned before…as well as the appearance of unidentified, mysterious animals."

"Chimera anima," the tall man said, lifting his gaze towards his mistress. "What would you have me do, my lady?"

"I want you to investigate into the matter. He is hosting a seminar somewhere in the United States. I want you to attend this seminar; if my hunch is correct, then soon, we shall have everything we need to begin our renaissance."

"Leave everything to me, my Duchess," the tall man said, swooping in a flourishing bow. Mere seconds later, he had disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a faint purple haze and the photograph he'd been holding floating towards the floor. Catching the photograph, Duchess turned it over in her hands, smiling evilly at the young face looking up towards her.

"What a pity, You shall be a great assistance to us, and yet you haven't even the slightest clue…Ryou Shirogane…"

* * *

**A/N: I decided to mix things up a bit with the introduction of the Crusaders. As much as I loved the original, I decided that there needed to be something to explain why the Crusaders knew about the aliens and the chimera anima, and to keep the action moving, I had them hatch this evil little plot. **

**I'll probably incorporate the original intro to the four crusaders somewhere in the future, but for now, this one fits better. Hopefully you guys will think so as well. :3**

**Also, because I elaborated on this before: the original **_**Tokyo Mew Mew **_**series ran from 2000-2002 in Nakayoshi magazine. That's what I consider to be the timeframe for the events in that series. So, since it's two years later, this story takes place around 2004. I think in the original draft of this, I said it was 2005, but that was incorrect. My bad. ^^; **

**Thanks for reading the new chapter 1! As always, comments, reviews and critiques are appreciated!**


	3. Reminiscience

A/N: The first time I uploaded this chapter, I was still a senior in high school, prepping for graduation. Now, I've actually graduated, I'm all set for college – classes, check! Dorm room, check! Roommate, check! – and it's right around my nineteenth birthday. :D

**Okay guys, this is the last chapter that needed fixing, so after this, it's going to be all new content. I'm pretty pumped about writing it, and I appreciate all of your guys' patience for letting me fix the first few chapters. 3**

**Anyways, onto this chapter! It's still a bit slow in light of how the last chapter ended, but it was always my intention to set things up for the third chapter, where things REALLY start picking up. But, this one was a necessary chapter to write, because it focuses on the rest of the main characters. So, hopefully, fans of the other Mew Mews will enjoy it. **

**That being said, on with the story!**

* * *

Chapter 2: Reminiscence

The sun shone brightly from its lofty perch in the bright blue sky, warming the Earth so that it was warm enough to be outside without anything heavier than a light jacket. The rain from the previous night had long since evaporated, removing any puddles from the pavements and roads. The only reminder that it had even rained at all was the faint scent of damp earth on the gentle breeze. Beautiful weather seemed to breathe new life into the city, invigorating and encouraging its citizens to step out of their offices or homes and revel in the warmer temperature.

Of course, no one took advantage of this fine weather better than the city's children. At Daikan Elementary School, the joyous squeals and laughter of children rang clearly in the air as classes were dismissed for the morning. This joy seemed to escalate as the children discovered the playground equipment and blacktops were fully dried, creating the perfect conditions for play…

…or rather, for a _performance_.

"…and now, gather 'round and watch, everyone! Presenting-for your eyes only-a special springtime performance, na no da!"

The usual sound of children at play was interrupted by a sudden burst of applause and cheering as the children abandoned their previous activities and hurried to the blacktop, all eyes focused on one of their fellow classmates. She was a diminutive girl with blonde hair tied up into sloppy pigtails; currently she was occupied with rolling her sleeves up well past her elbows. Judging by the lapels on her uniform, the child in question was from the fourth grade bamboo class* - but only a newcomer to the school would have required seeing this to identify her. After all, she was probably one of the most famous children in the entire school.

Grinning madly, Purin Fong withdrew from behind her back two sets of objects; the first a stack of gleaming white porcelain plates and the second a tightly wrapped package of thin wooden sticks. The audience members began to whisper amongst themselves, wondering what exactly she had planned for this "special springtime performance".

Oh, and what a surprise she would give them! "Here I go!" the tiny blonde declared, and within seconds three delicate plates were sent spinning into the air. In the time it took the plates to ascend and begin to fall, Purin was ready, and with a gentle chorus of chimes, each plate came to rest on a spinning rod – one right on top of the other, creating a rotating stack of plates balanced perfectly on one fingertip. She was greeted with several "oohs" and "aahs", but the vast majority of her audience knew better – they knew that this was just a warm-up. They were quite right; barely moving the arm which held the plates, Purin seized three more plates and repeated the process, this time balancing them upon her other hand.

"Now watch this, no da!" Purin exclaimed cheerfully as she gave a quick flick of her wrists, sending both stacks of plates into the air with perfect precision before dropping down to the ground in a handstand - effectively catching both stacks on the balls of her feet, without even the faintest shiver of imbalance. Applause erupted from the crowd as Purin slowly shifted her weight, now balancing on only one hand. "Too easy!" Purin laughed as she quickly switched her arms back and forth, reveling in the cheers from her audience. "Now for the big finish!" Purin declared, and the crowd fell silent. She waited, counting in her mind - after all, it was best to keep the audience waiting in suspense. _Three, two, one…_

And then, she suddenly performed a back-flip, sending the stack of plates sailing into the air. She was suddenly a flurry of motion, a blur of gray uniform and blonde hair she caught each and every plate and rod as they fell around her. It was a rather simple feat, one she had learned to master at the tender age of three, and within seconds, she had collected each plate in two perfect stacks and righted herself, all signs of prior activity vanishing instantly. Oh, how they applauded! Simple trick or not, the cheering crowd was music to her ears as she swooped down in a dramatic bow, grinning from ear to ear.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

"Purin-chan, that was amazing!"

"Encore! Encore!"

"Thank you, thank you, na no da!" Purin sang as she quickly set her materials down, rising quickly. "But that was just the warm-up, ladies and gentlemen! It's time for my next trick!"

And so she performed for them, the cheers and applause growing as she showcased her abilities; martial arts of both Chinese and other Asian origins, gymnastics, juggling balls (a rather dull routine in her opinion; she'd been prohibited from bringing her throwing knives into the school) and so forth. It had been quite some time since she'd gotten the chance to perform outdoors due to inclement winter weather that just wouldn't disappear, but her skills were no worse for wear. Truly, she was at her best, and as the break reached its end and she completed an absolutely _beautiful _ball routine, she had the crowd begging for more…and she hadn't even broken a sweat!

"Thank you, thank you, na no da! And now, for my final trick!" Purin declared as she withdrew from her sleeve a long, wooden stick, one end burnt to a smoldering, ashen crisp. If the crowd loved her now, then just _wait_ until they saw her final act! "Never before seen by the public eye, Purin presents, for special audiences only, her super-special extra spicy Sichuan FIRE BREATHING, na no da!"* A raucous cheer erupted from the crowd as they staggered backwards, away from the girl as she struck the stick as hard as she could against the pavement, igniting the tip in a smoky blaze. Absolutely glowing with pride and anticipation, Purin took a deep breath, holding the flaming stick at arm's length away, fully prepared to thrill her audience one final time as she exhaled…

…only to find the flame dying before her eyes. The stick was doused with a sudden downpour of cold water, putting out the fire and leaving soggy cinders. A sudden hush came upon her audience. Some of them wearily stepping away, their eyes trained on something directly behind Purin. Baffled, Purin glanced upwards. There she saw the saboteur of her grand finale; a metal bucket. It was held aloft by an older woman, who bore slightly graying hair, wrinkles, and a stern expression.

A great, huge grin spread across Purin's face. "Nanaka-sensei!" She said happily, completely forgetting the fact that her principal had just ruined one of her greatest performances to date.

Sighing, Miss Nanaka gave Purin a bemused, yet tired smile. "Hello, Purin-san. You've resumed performing, I assume?"

"Nanaka-sensei saw it? I'm so happy!" Purin exclaimed jubilantly, eyes glowing. Behind her, the tension in the crowd seemed to instantly dissipate as several of Purin's fourth grade classmates snickered and giggled amongst themselves. Seeing as this was not Purin's first confrontation with the principal of their school, there seemed little chance that she was in any real trouble.

Illustrating this point, Miss Nanaka turned to the rest of the students, still smiling. "I'm sure we've all enjoyed Purin-san's performance, but break is over now. Please say your thanks quickly and return to your classes - come on now, no complaining. You know the drill," she said kindly but sternly as some students whined and groaned. As the students began to disperse, Miss Nanaka turned back to Purin, who was gathering up her performance equipment. "Purin-san, do you need some help with that?" she offered, eying the odd assortment of props and wondering how the girl had managed to bring a full-sized circus ball into the building. But the small blonde girl shook her head, even though her arms were very close to spilling over.

"Mm-mm! Purin's fine, na no da!"

Smiling, Miss Nanaka knelt down and offered her arms. "You'd better let me handle some, or else you might drop something fragile." Purin considered this for a moment, then reluctantly agreed, handing her teacher the lightest – and thankfully what appeared to be the least dangerous – of the equipment. "That was quite a performance you put on for us, Purin-san," she continued as the two made their way towards the building, "You truly have a gift."

Purin's eyes alighted with renewed joy. She'd been praised! How she loved being praised! Her voice took on a haughty tone as she said, "The nasty winter weather's finally gone away, and it's been ages since I performed outside, but that didn't matter! That was actually one of my best performances, if I do say so myself, right up to the finale! Only," she added with a hesitant laugh, "the finale didn't quite end the way I expected it to. I was supposed to breathe fire, and I'm really good at that, but my flame went out…"

"Yes…which reminds me," Miss Nanaka continued, frowning slightly as she eyed the sopping wet fire stick, "Purin-san, that stunt is too dangerous to be performed in school. I'm sorry, but you can't bring that here anymore, and I'll have to confiscate it for today."

"What? Why?" Purin halted, turning to her teacher, her once jubilant expression replaced with a disheartened look. "Nanaka-sensei-"

"It's too dangerous to keep in your backpack, Purin-san. What if another student took it from your bag and played with it?"

"I'd never let that happen, no da! Don't worry, I won't let anyone else touch it unless I've trained them myself, na no da!"

"I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid I must insist," Miss Nanaka said with an apologetic look as she held out her hand, which Purin eyed as if it were a vicious snake. "Don't worry; I'll only need to keep it until the end of the day. Then you can have it back, if you promise not to bring it back to school again, just like your knives," she said with a smile. "It needs to dry anyway, doesn't it?"

Purin sighed, but then surrendered the stick. "Nanaka-sensei better take good care of it, na no da!" She said sternly, but quickly broke into a smile. "Especially since sensei's not trained to handle that kind of equipment!"

"Of course," her teacher nodded, now regarding the piece of charred timber as if it would spontaneously combust at any second in her inexperienced hands. Holding it as far from her body as she could, she turned back to Purin, balancing the props she carried in one hand so she could ruffle the blonde's head playfully. "Honestly, what am I going to do with you? First knives, now this…"

"'Never be afraid to take risks.' That's what Father said, na no da!" Purin stated proudly. "That applies to martial arts and performing, no da! And besides, everyone likes it when I perform the dangerous stunts!"

Miss Nanaka said nothing, as she always did when the topic of Purin's family came up. It was not her place to say it, but she truly wondered what kind of father this man was if he allowed his daughter to play with sharp, flammable objects. "I understand that you've been trained to handle things like this, but in school, things like that just aren't allowed," Miss Nanaka said as they continued towards class. "Purin-san, you're truly a wonderful student. You're one of the brightest, most studious in your class – now, I'm fine with your performing at recess, as long as it is safe, but you must promise not to bring in anything that…someone unlike you couldn't handle," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Understood?"

Purin nodded exuberantly. "M-hm! I understand! No more fire breathing – I have plenty of other tricks I can use, anyways, na no da! Not as cool as fire-breathing, but I'll come up with something!"

"That's my girl. Now, hurry off to class now – Asai-sensei will wonder where you are. Good luck in your studies, now."

"Yes, ma'am!" Purin said cheerfully as she bounded off, clutching her circus equipment close at hand. "And don't worry, I'll come up with a better finale just for you, na no da!" she sang as she hurried away. Miss Nanaka gave her a faint little wave in return, then turned her attention back towards the confiscated prop, wondering where in her office she had put the fire extinguisher – just in case.

* * *

The hands on the clock finally struck three, and instantly the classroom was filled with sounds; the sliding of chairs on tile as students rose from their seats, the clattering of desks and rustling of papers as they returned their notebooks and textbooks to their rightful place (some with more reckless abandon than others) drowned out their teachers' final comments to be safe in their travels home. The clamber of footsteps running up and down staircases echoed in the hallways as students hurried from their homerooms to their footlockers, changing as fast as they possibly could.

All the while, the male populace of the school watched the scene with casual indifference, taking care not to get in any charging girl's way.

For the girls, their destination was not home but the gymnasium, where the kendo club was currently engaged in practice. The girls quickly scuffled into the building and raced to get the best seats, crowding near the bleacher railings and nearly spilling over onto the court below. Some of the smaller girls even attempted to crawl underneath their taller classmates, trying their best not to get stepped on as they struggled to catch a glimpse of the team's star player.

"…Point!"

Anyone passing by the gymnasium would have just as well assumed there was a sudden earthquake; the cheers and screams of joy from the crowd were just one decibel shy of shaking the ceiling's rafters and lights. The tumultuous noise escalated further every time Masaya received a point against him.

"Aoyama-kuuuuun!"

"Go for it, Aoyama-san!"

"Aoyama-san is so cool!"

"You can beat him, Masaya-kun!" (This girl was smacked for using such familiarity.)

"Oi!" One female voice cried out from the sidelines, as Moe's blonde head whipped around angrily to glare at the squabbling girls directly behind her. "Put a sock in it, will you! I can barely hear myself THINK let alone talk!" Sighing in frustration, Moe turned and said crossly as she inserted a pinky into her ear, wriggling it, "I mean really, the nerve of those girls! The team's trying to practice and they're making all this noise!"

"We're really no better," Miwa commented to Retasu and Ichigo, who were seated next to each other on the bench. "I think you nearly flew the last time you stood to cheer." Moe turned, a sour look on her face as Ichigo and Retasu giggled.

"You're one to talk, Miss 'I-Won-Most-School-Spirit-On-My-Cheerleading-Squad'! And you're just as bad, if not worse, as me! You practically jumped out of your seat the last time he scored a point!"

"Point!" came the coach's cry, and instantly both girls were up on their feet, their argument forgotten, clasping hands and cheering enough to rival the girls behind them. Ichigo and Retasu exchanged humored looks as they turned their attention back towards the practice match. Masaya had just one more point to make to win this scrimmage, and while his opponent was only a point behind him, it did not seem like victory would be difficult to obtain.

A minute more, and it was within his grasp. "Point! Match over!" The coach's final call was inaudible as a raucous cheer went up through the crowd, achieving that last decibel and rattling the rafters just slightly. Ichigo was on her feet as well, a towel in hand as she hurried over to Masaya, who had just removed his helmet.

"Here you go," she said as she handed Masaya the towel, which he took with a tired but thankful nod of gratitude. "How many more match-ups do you have?"

"At least one," Masaya said breathily, "against Takaguchi-san, and depending on how much time is left, Yamada-san. But it shouldn't be much longer. Thank you for the towel," he said again as his coach called for him. "See you in a bit," he called over his shoulder as he went to join his teammates. Ichigo smiled and hurried back to the bench, tossing the used towel in the hamper on her way and trying her best to ignore the peculiar mixture of looks she was getting, both in admiration and in envy.

"Don't look now, but they're totally staring at you," Moe said, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned back in her seat, 'Really, you'd think that things would have gotten better in high school, but even after a year they're still jealous of you!"

"Nearly half of the girls here came from our junior high," Miwa pointed out, "and then you've got the girls who started crushing on him as soon as he walked through the door."

"Well, they can stare all they want," Ichigo said simply, crossing her legs and sitting up straight, "but nothing's going to change."

"You do realize that the majority of the girls in this school think they're better suited for him, don't you? Of course, I gave 'em a piece of my mind for that, but that's beside the point," Moe remarked, leaning towards Ichigo with a stern look on her face, "And the instant you two break up, they'll pounce on him!"

"Oh, knock it off," Ichigo frowned, pushing Moe away and giving her a reproachful look, "Nothing like that's going to happen. Masaya and I are staying together, no matter what people say or think."

"You two have been together for two years now," Retasu commented, patting Ichigo's shoulder gently. "And you certainly have been through quite a bit together." (Which, both thought to themselves, was quite a huge understatement, but they'd keep that little secret to themselves.)

"That's my girl," Moe said proudly, slapping Ichigo whole-heartedly on the back, causing her to lurch forward in her seat. "Of course, they're practically conjoined at the hip anyways, so the day that these two break it off will be the day the Apocalypse happens."

"That was…rather poetic," Retasu said slowly, a bit concerned for the state of Ichigo's health. "Are you alright, Ichigo?"

"Why does everything have to be violent with you?" Ichigo groaned as she shot a look at Moe, who merely waved her off and told her to be quiet; the next match was about to start.

* * *

She moved with ineffable grace. Her hands glided gently through the air, fingers held aloft in the daintiest of ways. Her long, slender legs moved noiselessly as she danced, her feet barely touching the floor as she performed a graceful jeté, landing soundlessly and sliding into a beautiful arabesque.

All the while, her eyes were closed, and that made her dance all the better. When she closed her eyes, she could see everything so much better – she saw the music that carried her with its beautiful melody, dancing around her, with her; she saw the lights of the stage, and almost felt it shining upon her. It was so much better to visualize her surroundings than to actually see them for what they were; a plain, boring studio.

And so she danced, as the music built to a crescendo, she began to pirouette, spinning fast enough that she heard the wind in her ears. But it wasn't fast enough; she pushed further, until she could barely hear the music. All she could hear was the wind, and for a moment, it almost felt like flying…

…and then the moment ended, and as the last chords of the piano was struck, she sank into a graceful split, hands extended in front of and behind her, her head bent so low it almost touched the glossy floor.

There was silence for only a moment, then applause. The illusion of the stage faded as Minto opened her eyes, as her real surroundings washed over her; a large ballet studio with mirrors covering every inch of wall, with one wall occupied by her fellow dancers. Those who were younger were absolutely star-struck, and their eyes glowed as they clapped noisily; her older classmates, though not as much as her younger ones, also seemed quite impressed, and their eyes showed that they had expected nothing else from their fellow ballerina.

"_Bravissimo_, Aizawa-san," the instructor, a fair young woman dressed in a mint green leotard and flowing skirt said as she approached, extending a hand to help Minto to her feet. "That was truly inspiring–I'd expect nothing less from our class's prima ballerina."

"Thank you," Minto said, bowing her head in thanks.

"Really, all you need to do now is perfect your routine through daily practicing, and it will be the perfect end to our recital in May." The teacher smiled warmly at her student. "You're dance is truly beautiful, Minto-san. Whenever you dance, it's as if you're flying–like a swan." The teacher then briskly turned, clapping her hands. "That is all for today, everyone. Remember, practice tomorrow will commence an hour earlier and end an hour earlier as well, so plan accordingly. Thank you everyone."

"Thank you, Ashihara-sensei," the students replied as they stood and bowed in unison before hurrying off to gather their things from the locker room. Minto lingered back a moment, waiting for the worst of the crowd (the younger students, of course) to exit, and then followed.

_It's as if you're flying – like a swan. _That was what the instructor had said. It was a compliment she had received happily – as kind as Ashihara-sensei was, those kinds of compliments were rare and few in between. It showed to her, to everyone, that she had achieved a level of expertise that other ballerinas struggled to achieve. It showed how much she had grown.

It had been a long two years for the blue-haired girl, one paved with a lot of sacrifice, tears, and recitals – not to mention some occasional bruises and a sprained ankle, but at last her dream-her goal of becoming a prima ballerina known world-wide-was finally drawing closer. And now, with this next recital's routine proceeding just as planned, that dream was literally in her grasp.

Still…_Ballet's not the same as really being able to fly…like I used to._

She hesitated at her locker, wondering why she had thought about that now, of all times. It was a thought she hadn't entertained for a very, very long time; her ballet career took up too much of that. It wasn't as if she missed being a Mew-Mew. Far from it; being a Mew-Mew had only hindered her prospective ballet career, and it had nearly cost her a removal from her previous ballet school. But now here she was, dancing better than anyone in her class – in the absence of chimera anima attacks and having to leave practices early to go work at the Café, her ballet had not only improved: it had absolutely _flourished_.

Still, Minto couldn't help but admit as she gathered her things and changed her clothes, she had missed that tiny, upscale advantage of being endowed with the genes of a bird. That had given her a special edge of grace to her dance, and it made her dance all the more beautifully. But the natural talent she'd been building since that time seemed much more meaningful, and made the work she put into it a lot more special. _So why worry about it? _She thought with finality, waving away the pesky thought as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and made her way towards the exit.

She paused and took in a deep breath of air, savoring the fresh air. As much as she loved to dance, being cooped up in a studio for two and a half hours did wear on her after awhile. Still, she felt energized despite the lengthy practice, and she was practically dancing down the stairs as she made her way to the sidewalk, where her car was waiting. Beside it, her nursemaid stood, along with a small Pomeranian who, as soon as he saw Minto, leapt from the older woman's side and raced to his owner.

"Miki!" Minto said happily as she scooped up the dainty dog in a gentle hug. "How's my boy doing?"

"Good evening, ojyo-sama*," the nursemaid said politely, opening the car door and stepping forward to take Minto's bag from her. "I trust you had a good practice?"

"Yes, thank you. Don't worry, I got it." Minto said as she gently refused the help, balancing her bag on one shoulder and Miki in the crook of her other arm. With that, she gently tossed the bag onto the seat next to her before sliding into the car. She waited until the elderly woman was seated in front before asking, after a moment's consideration, "Were there any calls when I was gone?"

"None, ojyo-sama," the nursemaid shook her head as she took her seat in the front. "Were you expecting a call from someone? I didn't know."

"Oh, not really," Minto lied as she fished her cell phone out of her bag and flipped it open. A small pout tugged at her lips before she flipped the phone closed with a sigh – there were no new messages either. _She must be working late today, _Minto thought as she quickly typed another message and sent it, before turning her attention towards Miki, who was pawing her arm for attention._ But then again, she's been just as busy as I have._

_

* * *

_She was running for her life.

Rain pounded all around her, soaking through her clothes and chilling her skin, creating a thick wall of water that she could barely navigate through. Her breath came in quick, panicking bursts as she chanced a glance behind her in the pitch-black alley, which suddenly lit up in white hot light as lighting crackled overhead. Seeing no one there, she turned to look ahead –

She barely skidded to a stop in time to avoid the massive man that suddenly appeared before her, arms reaching out menacingly to grab her. Thinking quickly, she darted down another alley to her left, slipping on the soggy earth as she ran and knocking trash cans over in her attempt to slow her pursuer down. She could hear him swear as one trash can caused him to stumble, giving her time to sprint around another corner.

Her legs were throbbing with fatigue, and her sides ached from lack of air, but she couldn't stop; they'd find her all too quickly, and then it would be over. She had to keep moving – she had to warn the others of what was happening, of the danger that lay waiting, ready to strike them all down. She couldn't let things end here, with the knowledge of what was about to happen to them all dying along with her. No – it just couldn't end like this!

Her sapphire eyes widened in horror as two other men appeared at the end of the alley, and she froze. Her head whipped around, searching for an escape, as the man from before suddenly rounded the corner, approaching at a brisk pace. Suddenly, she saw it, illuminated by another crack of lightning; a fire escape ladder. With a leap, she grabbed the highest rung and climbed, her feet slipping on the wet metal as she climbed, barely missing a greedy hand reaching up to snatch her foot.

She cleared the fire escape, escaping to the rooftop of some obscure building, and collapsed to her knees. Her breath coming in sharp gasps, she dared to peer over the edge of the building, and was startled to find her pursuers were not following; they had vanished into thin air, seemingly. Not wanting to miss this chance to escape, she got to her feet, when she heard the click of a revolver loading. With a cry of shock, she turned, her entire body freezing when she saw the man before her, aiming the gun directly at her chest.

"Give it up, child." The dark voice that spoke sent a bone-chilling shiver down her spine. "You've nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Such a shame – you could have been such an asset to our plans. But my mistress did decree that all who stand in our way must be eliminated. _Au-revoir_."

The deafening sound of gunfire was nearly drowned out by a clap of thunder, and the man watched with a sick smile as the lightning illuminated her limp body collapsing to the ground like a discarded doll. Holstering his gun, he strolled casually over to her, admiring the way her obsidian hair flowed around her like a halo. Her sapphire eyes gazed lifelessly up at her killer, who merely shrugged and said, "One down…four to go."

"….and…CUT! That's a wrap, everyone! Clear the set!"

All at once, the rain ceased to exist, its last few drops hitting the ground as the sprinklers were shut off. The pitch-black sky suddenly was illuminated with light, revealing the ceiling of the set building they were in. Simultaneously, there was a flurry of movement as assistants and make-up artists swarmed the stage. The sinister villain stooped down, hand extended, saying, "That was fantastic, Fujiwara-san."

Zakuro, who mere seconds before was the very definition of dead, suddenly blinked and sat up, accepting the hand graciously. "Thank you," she said with a small smile as she stood, following her fellow actor off of the fake building they'd been shooting on. They were joined in a few minutes by Zakuro's agent, a tall woman dressed smartly in a red business suit, and a younger assistant carrying several towels.

"Good job today, you two!" the latter said cheerfully as she handed a towel to each actor before turning to Zakuro, "Fujiwara-san, you nearly had me in tears. If I didn't know any better, I'd have really thought Ochiro-san had really killed you!"

"That's my girl for you," Zakuro's manager grinned, ruffling the girl's sopping wet hair as they made their way off the set, "She didn't just get the part for her good looks, you know! She's got talent like no one else on this set! No offense, Ochiro," she added off-handedly towards the male actor, who merely shrugged and headed towards his trailer. "I'm telling you, Zakuro, your performance will make this the best sci-fi thriller Japan has seen in years!"

Zakuro, who had been waving goodbye to Ochiro, rolled her eyes and smiled. "It's only a minor appearance. I'm only in the film for the first half-hour."

"But your part is the most powerful one!" The assistant pressed, offering another towel, which Zakuro used for her hair. "Your character's death sets the stage for the rest of the movie – you, the wise elder-sister type who everyone looks up to is shot down mercilessly, leaving her teammates to face the enemy alone! It's going to be a great movie because your character makes such a powerful impression! How on Earth do you do it?"

Zakuro smiled, somewhat slyly, as she wrapped the towel around her shoulders. "Let's just say I've had a bit of experience with that type of role."

"Alright, alright, enough idle chit-chat, Tanaka," the manager said, "The cast is going out to eat tonight to celebrate the first successful week of shooting, and I severely doubt you want to go in _that _outfit," she said, gesturing towards the soaking wet, bloodstained ensemble. "I've got a new one hanging up in your trailer. We've got about twenty minutes before everyone leaves. I'll be waiting by the car."

"Alright, we'll hurry," Zakuro said as she and Tanaka made their way outside. The Hong Kong air was illuminated by the lights of the city, darkening the towering skyscrapers surrounding the set. All around the set, workers, actors, and technicians were rushing about, though one or two stopped to congratulate Zakuro on a successful shoot before hurrying off to close up the set for the day.

Once inside Zakuro's trailer, Tanaka made sure the door was shut before turning to Zakuro. "Alright, please remove your shirt, Fujiwara-san." she said politely. Zakuro nodded, easily sliding out of the wet, blood-stained fabric. Fastened tightly around her chest was a large packet of fake blood, which still oozed a tiny bit whenever Zakuro moved. "Shoot," Tanaka muttered as she scurried behind Zakuro to unfasten the belt buckle, "it looks like this one detonated too early."

"I thought it did," Zakuro said, using a towel to wipe off any excess make-up on her body. "It soaked all the way through to my bra," she added a bit disdainfully.

"Don't worry, a run through the wash will fix that," Tanaka said cheerfully, turning respectfully away from Zakuro so she could remove her pants, "and at least now you don't ever have to wear this outfit for the rest of the film. And later on this week, we shoot your big 'resurrection' scene, and you get to wear this costume," Tanaka said, gesturing towards an intricate white dress hanging from the clothing rack. "You'll look stunning in it, I know."

"Tanaka-san, would you mind telling my manager I'm almost ready? I need to change now," Zakuro said politely.

I have to get rid of this thing anyways," Tanaka said as she waved the dripping blood packet in her hand. Grinning, she bounded out of the trailer, wet clothes in hand, closing the door tightly behind her. Zakuro heaved a sigh of relief as soon as she was sure she was gone. As much as the girl meant well, it nevertheless tired her to deal with her constant fawning over her - it always made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Sighing, she hurriedly changed clothes, redid her make-up, and tied her wet hair in a loose ponytail before shutting of the lights of her trailer, locking it, and joining her agent at the car.

"You got a text today while you were filming," her agent said, handing Zakuro her cell phone as they fastened their seatbelts, "I think it's from that Aizawa girl."

"Mm," Zakuro nodded as she read the message ("Haven't heard from you in awhile. Let me know how filming is going!") before typing a quick reply herself. ("Going to dinner. Will call later. Busy day.") Her manager sighed.

"Really, that girl is almost as crazy about you as that Tanaka. Is that what you meant when you said you had 'experience' playing the big sister role?"

"Something like that." Zakuro said, turning from her agent to watch the city pass them by as they drove. She wasn't exactly telling a lie – she just wasn't telling her the whole truth. After all, admitting that she was a retired super-heroine who once protected the world from alien invasion was a laughable statement, if not utterly unbelievable.

It was a bit ironic, though, that her first film debut starred her as one of five crime fighters who were trying to uncover a hidden conspiracy regarding environmental destruction. Of course, when Zakuro had inquired about it, her agent said it had no relation to the events of two years ago in Japan, with the appearance of the Mew-Mews and the aliens – but then again, her agent seemed to deny the very existence of anything like that.

"I was a bit worried that you wouldn't want to take the part. I mean, it's a minor role, like you said, but even so," her agent said with a smile, "you're pulling it off with aplomb, Zakuro. For your first world-premiere film, I'd have to say you're doing better than any other actress I've had the pleasure of working with. It's definitely going to pave the way for future films, that's for sure. Every little bit counts!"

"Enough flattery," Zakuro said curtly, though kindly, "It's been a long day."

Her agent nodded, and Zakuro returned her gaze back towards the city, letting her mind wander. Her agent was right…if this film (however poorly written the script was; it had a lot of action sequences, including the scene they'd just filmed, comprising the majority of the plot) did well in the box office, she'd surely become more popular as an up-and-coming actress, which meant more directors would look her way. And even if the film didn't do well, the publicity it would receive would surely draw some eyes to her. Regardless of what would happen, everything was going to change very soon.

The car coasted to a slow stop in the downtown area, and soon Zakuro found herself looking directly across the way towards the massive television screen in the center of downtown, where the local news was being broadcasted. For a moment, Zakuro simply stared at the screen, not really paying attention to the newscaster…that is, until the next segment came up.

For a moment, Zakuro couldn't believe what she was seeing. Despite having the air-conditioning on, her hand flew towards the car door to roll down the window. As the window fell away and warm evening air caressed her face, she could clearly make out the Japanese subtitles that ran across the bottom of the screen, and the face broadcasted above them as well.

"… The exhibition and commencement address will begin this coming Friday at the Museum of Natural History in New York City. Ryou Shirogane-san is the son of the late professor Jishou Shirogane-san, who passed away tragically several years ago while conducting research in the same field. Shirogane-san says that his current research is founded on the findings of his father and Keiichiro Akasaka-san, who served as Jishou Shirogane-san's assistant up until his passing. Their findings have caused quite a stir recently in the scientific community, and according to some reports, may very well revolutionize the field of environmental science and conservation as we know it…"

"Hey, Zakuro, roll up the window! It's throwing off the AC," her manager said, having finally noticed the open window, just as the light turned green and the car inched away from the intersection, just as the image of Ryou and Keiichiro vanished from the screen.

* * *

The coach had indeed decided that more practice was needed that evening, and by the time that Masaya had finished his match with Yamada, the first golden rays of sunset were streaming through the windows. By the time that the group of friends reached the school gates, it was almost six o'clock. Moe quickly bid the group a hasty goodbye at the school gates before hurrying off; her parents had a very important business meeting to attend, and she was responsible for looking after her baby brother once more.

"You'd better do your homework tonight, Ichigo," Moe called out as she hastily made her way down the sidewalk, "because there's no way I'm gonna finish mine!"

"Maybe if you did your homework instead of watching T.V. after babysitting, you'd get it done!" Ichigo retorted, to which Moe laughingly replied, "Hey, a working girl has her priorities!"

Not long after, Miwa headed off in the direction of the grocery store ("I'm in charge of dinner tonight – my mom's working late, and Dad will probably want to eat as soon as I get home. I'll see you tomorrow!") Retasu left the group not long after that, saying that she too had an errand to run as well. "Have a safe trip home!" she said, bowing politely before making her leave.

Now it was just Ichigo and Masaya once more, and the two of them reveled in the privacy by holding hands as they made their way down the street.

"I'm sorry practice took so long today," Masaya apologized as they went. "My coach is really adamant about this match coming up – he says it's going to determine our rank in the tournament."

"It's alright, I understand," Ichigo said with a smile, leaning her head on Masaya's shoulder. "And I know you're going to do just fine. I mean, you wiped the floor with Yamada-kun, didn't you?"

Masaya chuckled. "I don't think I did that at all," he said, as Ichigo raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"You scored a head point within the first few seconds, didn't you?"

Masaya blushed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm really not that great of a player. There are others who are better than me on the team."

Ichigo shook her head. "You're not giving yourself enough credit, Masaya. You're one of the rising stars of the team – you've already become the team captain, and you're competing in a higher rank at the tournament. Everybody knows how good you are." She chose not to say that he was also the most popular kendo player; Masaya never cared much for having all those girls cheering around him, he had once confessed. It made it very difficult to concentrate, especially whenever he made a mistake and they made it sound as if he'd been dealt a fatal knife wound. That was why she was always subdued at his scrimmages, so he could concentrate better on his matches. _But no matter what, I'll always be cheering for you the loudest of them all at the tournament_, Ichigo promised firmly in her mind.

"You flatter me," he said, bringing her back out of her thoughts by squeezing her hand affectionately. "But thank you, all the same," he added, genuinely smiling.

They walked along in content silence, savoring each other's company and taking in the quieter, subdued crowds passing by. Ichigo's eye meandered across the stores they passed, admiring the window displays briefly before turning her gaze elsewhere. A flash of white and pink caught her attention at last, and she ceased walking when she turned and found that they were in front of a small bakery, whose windows boasted a large, three-tiered cake on display; a closer inspection revealed intricately swirled frosting, dainty pink rosettes all along the edges, and a beautifully ornate crown place on top.

"Oh, wow, look at this cake!" she gawked, pressing a hand against the window. "It almost looks too good to eat!" There were numerous smaller cakes on display as well, in a myriad of soft pink and yellow frostings; a tower of cupcakes was set off to one side, brightly lit with multi-colored sprinkles, and on the opposite side, a tier filled to the brim with colorful fruit tarts. The whole display was very bright and pretty, and also very tantalizing, particularly the strawberry tarts, which she eyed hungrily for a moment.

"It's a wedding cake," Masaya said, having joined Ichigo at the window display. Instantly he recognized the hungry look in her eyes instantly and asked politely, "Would you like to go inside and order something?"

Ichigo instantly came to her senses, standing upright and shaking her head. "Ah! N-no, it's alright! I was just admiring them, that's all!" Which was about as white a lie as she could say, but her parents – and no doubt Masaya's – would scold them for eating a heavy treat before dinner time. "I wouldn't want you to spend the money, anyways – it looks pretty expensive…"

"It's really no trouble," Masaya insisted, "and you haven't eaten anything since lunchtime. But if you really don't want anything…"

"No, no, I'm fine, really," Ichigo insisted, turning back towards the display case and admiring the center cake. "I really was just admiring them, especially this big one. It's really beautiful…and…"

"Hm?" Masaya turned towards Ichigo, who had started to say something else, but paused. After a moment, she finally finished her statement, and as she spoke, a strangely thoughtful look crossed her features.

"…It almost reminds me of something Akasaka-san would make…except his would no doubt be three times bigger and taste ten times better."

"Akasaka-san…oh yes, the young man working with Shirogane-san?" Masaya said. "That's right, you did tell me once that he baked everything the café served."

"Yup," Ichigo said happily, "And he was the best baker I ever knew. I should know, I got to sample everything that he created – cakes, tarts, waffles, muffins, cupcakes…" she said, counting off the items on her fingers. She closed her eyes as she pictured each and every dessert she named, and the young man who seemed to conjure them up like magic. Sighing, she opened her eyes and returned her gaze to the window.

"I wonder…I wonder if he still bakes?" she said, staring wistfully at the desserts. Masaya eyed her curiously, noting the lonely look that had entered her eyes, and gently took her hand.

"You must miss it sometimes," he said after a moment's pause, "working at the café. I know how much it meant to you."

"I was sad to see it closed. One day it was bustling with people, and just like that, it was locked up. And none of us ever found out why," Ichigo said quietly, picturing the pink stone café nestled in its little corner of the park. She imagined the café in its prime, its large wooden doors open wide to all its guests; she imagined the brightly lit interior, with the beautiful ceiling murals casting reflections onto the gleaming, laminated pine floors. The café was always warm and welcoming, the air inside filled with the delightful warmth and smells of freshly baked confectionaries and coffees and teas.

She could easily picture her friends as well: the ever prim and proper Minto, seated at her favorite table in the café, daintily sipping her daily cup of tea, every now and then stealing a secretive and admiring glance towards the register, where the gorgeous yet stoic Zakuro received customers' payments with a solemn, "Thank you, come again,". Then there was Purin, who was once again swinging from the overhanging lamps, or perhaps performing yet another potentially hazardous balancing act with her circus equipment, ignoring Retasu's pleas to be careful as the green-haired girl hurried to clear tables and deliver dirty dishes to the kitchen – as carefully as she possibly could, but nonetheless tripping every now and then, barely catching herself before another set of pricy dishes shattered on the floor.

The image was completed when the girls were joined by Keiichiro, having just emerged from the kitchen with his newest confectionary creation, which would no doubt surpass its predecessor as the greatest cake ever made; his apron would no doubt be smudged and stained beyond repair, but the beaming smile full of pride and joy showed that the older boy did not care in the slightest. And last but not least, there was Ryou, casually leaning against the pink café walls and taking the entire scene in – and on a very rare occasion, he too would smile and join the rest of the group.

"Ichigo?" Masaya's voice filtered in, and the reverie was broken. She looked up into his eyes, smiled and shook her head again.

"You know, despite everything we'd all been through, that place sure had some wonderful memories," she said, a nostalgic tone in her voice. She was right; despite everything that they had all been through –the constant danger Ryou kept reminding them of, the life-threatening, nerve-wracking battles, the endless stream of work pressed upon her (_Though it seemed nobody else had to deal with that problem, _she thought wryly for a split second) – it was the moments, like the one she was imagining right now, that made her remember how much she loved being there. Café Mew-Mew held so many wonderful memories, enough to surely outweigh the few dark ones of those times – and even then, the bad memories didn't seem so terrible at all. "I wish they could have kept it open."

"I'm sure they had their reasons," Masaya opted, "One can never tell with Shirogane-san, right? He always seemed like an interesting fellow."

"Heh, interesting is _one_ way to look at it," Ichigo scoffed, remembering all too well the blonde's particular eccentricities; constantly pestering her to work harder, her accidental discovery of his tendency to stand around his room shirtless, and nearly kissing her in what he claimed was "the pursuit of science" – though at one time she knew he only did it to scold her. And she didn't even want to think about all the times he kissed her as a cat. "But there were times when he could be a really sweet guy – in his own Ryou way."

She fell silent again for a moment, and then sighed. "As much as he annoyed me, I sometimes wonder what he's up to."

She was lying once again; to be honest, it was a question she would mull over every now and then when her mind wandered. Just as she hadn't set foot in the café for two years, so was the amount of time she'd gone without hearing from either Shirogane or Akasaka – no phone calls, no letters…it was as if they had left her life and the lives of her friends as quickly as they had come into them.

The closing of Café Mew-Mew had also made it difficult for Ichigo to meet with her friends nowadays as well. While the closely knit group of girls did keep in touch as often as they could, it was not quite the same. Zakuro had her career to think of now, and was currently in Hong Kong filming her first motion picture. Likewise, Minto's time was largely consumed by her ballet, and the last Ichigo had heard from her rich friend, she was rehearsing to become the prima ballerina in her upcoming recital. And Purin of course had her family to care for, and now apparently school as well – Retasu had told her the last time she'd seen the hyperactive young girl, she had boasted proudly how she was now back in school.

"Do you ever miss it?" Masaya's voice broke through her thoughts, and when she gave him an inquisitive glance, he continued by saying, "Being a Mew-Mew, I mean. It must still be hard adapting to a normal life, after all that's happened."

"I do miss being at the Café quite a bit," she admitted, "and I do miss being able to see the others. But I'm not unhappy," she said, smiling suddenly and giving Masaya a brief, tight hug. "After all, I have you. I would've never thought I'd still be with you after everything that happened. And now, look at us – we've been together for almost two years now, and I don't think we would've if we hadn't gone through everything we had to face together. And everyone else seems happy with their lives, so I'm happy too," Ichigo said happily.

Masaya smiled, nodding his head and ruffling Ichigo's hair. "Come on," he said, "we should get you home. Your parents will be wondering where you are." As he spoke, one of the streetlights came on beside them, casting a bright circle of light overhead in the dimming sky. Grinning, Ichigo lead Masaya away from the café, hoping their parents wouldn't care about an invitation to have Masaya dine with them tonight, and perhaps help her with her homework. Yes, any moment that she could spend with Masaya, especially after everything they'd gone through…any moment at all was enough to fill the void the empty Café Mew-Mew had left behind. And it was with that thought that she dismissed all sadness and nostalgia from her mind as the two made their way home, leaving the bakery and another perfectly normal school day behind them.

* * *

**Footnotes**

**1) **_**Bamboo class = **_**"In Japan, some schools use names rather than numbers for classes. 'Plum tree', 'Bamboo', and 'Pine' are popular class designations." – Taken from **_**The Gentlemen's Alliance Cross, **_**vol.3. **

**I decided to have Purin attend the same grade school that Ichigo attended in the original series. The high school (tenth through twelfth) is separate from the grade school (first through sixth) and the junior high (seventh through ninth), however. I'm not sure if that's an accurate portrayal of the school system in Japan, so feel free to offer input if you have any. **

**2) Sichuan = I'm not 100% sure if this is the proper spelling, but Sichuan is a certain flavoring or type of Chinese cuisine. You see it all the time in Chinese buffets and restaurants – apparently it is somewhat spicy. **

**3) Ojyo-sama = a common title used to address young women of high stature. There's been a couple different ways of spelling this honorific, but this is the spelling used in most English translations that keep the honorific system. This particular spelling was also taken from **_**The Gentlemen's Alliance Cross. **_

**A/N: Actually, this chapter didn't need much fixing after all. Initially, it was my intention to introduce Keiichiro and Ryou into the story in this chapter, but there were already too many character intros, and it was starting to run a bit too long. I fully intend to make up for that in chapter 3, which will consist mostly of our favorite millionaire and his baker friend. :3**

**Plus, the story is FINALLY gonna pick up after this, as we'll find out just what exactly the Crusaders want with Ryou. Fasten your seatbelts (except not really ^^;), things are finally starting to speed up!**

**As always, comments, reviews, and critiques are greatly appreciated!**


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